


At the Drop of a Hat

by ALittleGranny



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alcohol, Comedy, F/M, Gen, Inappropriate Humor, Injury, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8178122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALittleGranny/pseuds/ALittleGranny
Summary: Angela's travel plans to the new Overwatch recall point get derailed when Genji appears unannounced and with an odd injury.





	

It was the second most surprising thing Angela saw in a hotel room. The first being a hotel in Kenya: she stepped out of the shower to find a troop of monkeys digging through her suitcase. The monkeys looked at her. She looked at them. She screamed. They screamed. She clutched her towel tight and retreated to the bathroom. The monkeys took a sock and a bag of trail mix and absconded through the ripped window screen. 

A hotel employee, alarmed by the ruckus, banged on the door. He shouted something in a language she did not speak, but she understood what he wanted well enough. With only a small white towel to preserve her modesty, Angela fumbled with the locks until the the door could swing open. The hotel employee barged into the room as if he expected a crime scene. It was, in the most technical terms, a robbery. A robbery in which one of the thieves could not escape the same way they broke in. The employee tried to suppress a smile, and turned his head aside as to not laugh right in her face. Angela did not have the same restraint. Stuck in the screen window was one of the large male monkeys. Tail up, anus and bright blue testicles prominently displayed as the monkey kicked his legs in an attempt to propel his lower half to freedom. Angela laughed until she could hardly breath and tears welled in her eyes. The hotel employee laughed. The monkey just howled between shoving mouthfuls of trail mix in his mouth until the humans collected themselves enough to get the poor creature help. 

Angela was certain that no other hotel experience could match the blue balled monkey eating trailmix while stuck in a window. For one, there were no wild monkeys in Las Vegas. Her hotel room was on the fourteenth floor. so the only confused wildlife she could encounter was a confused pigeon. Not much could get to that floor except for hotel staff and maybe some confused pigeons. Or so she thought.  
The surprise in Las Vegas also involved a break in and Angela encountering an intruder just after she had showered. This time, she stared at the trespasser in shocked silence. 

Sitting on her bed with the nonchalance of a man waiting for the bus was Genji Shimada. To his right was a mass of metal and wires. Genji’s visor turned to her and then to the pile of junk beside him. Then to his feet as though the poor man did not know what to comment on first: his presence, her unkempt state, or what appeared to be some mangled Apple product.

Genji considered the electronic mess to his right again and returned his attention to the doctor. "My hand fell off." 

Mercy blinked. "What?" Her eyes darted to the mess of wires and metal. Lots of little pieces cradled by a warped shell of white plastic. The same color and texture of Genji’s chassis. Angela’s brow knitted together and she frowned with realization.

Genji’s right arm ended in a disarray of frayed wires and sharp metal just below his elbow. Genji plucked what remained of his cybernetic hand from the scraps. Two of the fingers were missing and the thumb seemed like it would be next. "My hand. It fell off.”

“I can see that.” In fact it was difficult to look at anything else. 

Genji set the hand aside and picked up another small piece. “My middle finger also fell off.”

Angela frowned. “That would make sense considering.” She motioned to his arm and said no more. Did he want to mention that his index finger was gone too? Shame he lost the two fingers needed for majority of crude gestures. He had to be disappointed.

“I didn’t know who else to go to,” he said the words as though he had practiced them.

Angela rubbed her temple and sighed. “Let me get dressed and I’ll see what I can do,” she said. With the green towel secured tight she went to her suitcase, her damp hair trailing water droplets on the cheap carpet.

Genji turned, resting on his intact hand. “I don't want to trouble you."

"Really?" Angela rolled her eyes. She knelt carefully and unzipped her bag. Ignoring the feeling of being watched, she retrieved her underthings and concealed them between folded jeans and a white t-shirt. 

From the corner of her eye, she noticed his head turn to follow her when she made a beeline for the bathroom. Angela would have given another man sharp tongued quip or a slap to the cheek. Genji got the benefit of the doubt. As a long time friend, former patient, and the fact he was minus one hand, his fixated gaze was more akin to a puppy waiting for dinner than a randy dog. Angela said nothing more and locked the bathroom door behind her to change.

Angela ran the towel over her shoulders and then rubbed it against her wet hair, tangling the blonde locks into a damp mess. Too late she realized she forgot her brush in the suitcase. She huffed. Great. With a frown she got dressed. After a half-hearted attempt to comb her hair with her fingers. Well, it was not the worst state Genji had seen her in. She hung up the towel and returned to the bedroom. 

To her surprise, Genji did not make a comment on her disheveled appearance. He just continued to watch while she went to her suitcase and brushed out her hair. “Out of curiousity, how did you find me?” she asked. 

Genji tapped at his visor. “Winston’s recall reactivated the trackers. It seems like you’re one of the only people who haven’t lost theirs.”

Angela tilted her head as she tried to work out a tough knot of hair. “Of course I haven’t,” she replied. It was a tiny device, barely bigger than a grain of rice, implanted under the skin. Without a companion device, it was only good for sending out a signal every few hours. She had forgotten that Genji’s visor was one such device. It could map the trackers and display them for him. Useful for keeping track of allies while maintaining stealth.“Why do you say the others lost theirs?”

Genji shrugged. “The ping hasn’t moved in a few days.”

“Maybe some of them settled down?”

“McCree’s has been blinking at the White House for four days.”

Angela paused. “McCree would not be the worst president the United States has had.” She smiled and set the hair brush aside.

He chuckled. “He may actually be one of the better.”

“Too bad he has a felony.” Mercy took a seat beside him at the edge of the bed. “Now, mask off. I prefer to see my patients face.”

“Multiple felonies,” Genji corrected.He pressed the clasps on both sides of his mask. The compressed air hissed when it detached. Genji inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, enjoying the fresh air on his scarred skin and in his lungs. He tossed the mask behind him on the bed. “Las Vegas is not as smoggy as I remember,” he said.  
Angela tsked. “When was the last time you took that off?” There were bruises on his cheekbones and angry, red, imprints on his jaw where the mask had been. Angela did not mention the marks. Or the smell. She considered making him take a shower before she started work.

He shrugged. “A few days?” He wiped the sweat from his face with his good hand. 

Mercy made a face. Ew. A shower for Genji went from being a consideration to a necessity. “Why?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“It’s disgusting,” she said. Genji did not argue that. She sighed and began to inspect the robotic arm. “You’re taking a shower,” she said. She turned what was left of the metal arm in her hands. The internal mechanism for his shurikens was halved. The wires, frayed and exposed, had no hope of being mended. “What happened?”

“Lost a fight with an elevator door.” His expression did not change.

Angela raised a brow at him. Was he trying to be funny? Or was he irritated about the implication that he smelled? She could not tell. 

“The elevator started it,” he clarified. 

Trying to be funny. Angela shook her head. "You're not going to tell me." It was a statement, not a question. If Genji did not want to talk, she could not make him. Pressing the issue just encouraged him to fabricate a more fanciful story. Winston tried for so long that Genji eventually incorporated getting to second base with Bigfoot. Part of her was tempted to pry further, just to hear what he would come up with. She resisted. 

Genji shrugged but offered no explanation. He glanced at his arm. "What's the prognosis, Dr. Ziegler?" 

"Not good," she replied. She touched a loose bolt and it fell onto the bed. The two of them stared at the bolt in silence for a moment until Genji picked it up and added it to the pile of scrap. "You'll need to get some replacement parts, and I don't have any on hand. Pun not intended,” she said.

Genji smirked at the comment. “Do you need a hand with finding these parts?”

Angela allowed herself a laugh. “No, but it’s going to take a while.”

He hummed but his expression was unchanged, as though he expected the response. “How long will that take?”

Longer than he wanted to wait, most likely. Genji’s bionics were unique, crafted just for him. While that worked great in the field it made unexpected maintenance a challenge. Angela glanced out the window. The Las Vegas lights colored the darkened sky. “Robotics stores will be closed at this hour. We can get new parts tomorrow morning, but even then…” she trailed off. She looked at mangled metal on the bed, then at what was left of Genji’s arm. “I can make it usable, but I can’t fix this.” She tapped at the mechanism that used to hold his shurikens. 

Genji furrowed his brow. “I thought you made this.” Instead of gesturing to his arm, he gestured to all of him. 

“I installed it, yes. But this is Torbjorn’s creation,” she explained. “If half of it wasn't missing I could try to reverse engineer it.”

Genji picked up a hand full of metal scrap and offered it to her. “Does this help?” 

“No,” Angela replied, deadpanned. She pushed herself off of the bed, stretching. “I assume you have a place to stay?”

Genji flashed a sheepish smile.

Angela sighed and resisted the temptation to shake her head at him. “I’ll go to the lobby and see if another room is available. You can stay here if there isn't, but you’re not taking my bed.”

“Why not? I’d share it,” he replied. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Not without a shower,” she said. She decided to let the implications of the comment slide. Judging by his expression, he was joking. "I'm sure room service can at the very least bring a cot," she said. She ran her hand through her still damp hair and gazed out the window idly. “Let’s get you showered and something to blend in. We can go get dinner. Sound good?”

Genji nodded. “One condition: it has to be Asian cuisine.” He held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers. “I would rather use chopsticks than something that requires two hands.”

Angela agreed. She threw a clean towel at the cyborg and told him to ‘de-stink’ while she found him something to wear other than the smelly armor. She remembered a gift shop on the first floor of the hotel. At the very least, she could probably get him a sweatshirt and sweatpants. 

Before she left for the gift shop, she gave Genji a plastic bag to protect the exposed wires and gears on his severed arm from further damage. Not that it would do much, but it was something. Genji thanked her with a smile and told her that he would buy dinner. It was the least he could do. 

**Author's Note:**

> Note: the monkey story is actually based upon a personal experience.


End file.
